


Doctor Dil Will Build A Creature

by Edgelord (lostlikeme)



Category: All Grown Up!, Rugrats
Genre: Brotherly Love, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Fluff, Gen, M/M, sexual identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/pseuds/Edgelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for National Coming Out Day 2013.</p><p>Thomas Malcolm Pickles has been coming out ahead of the game ever since August 11th, 1989, when he was born two months premature. At just six months old he taught himself to walk, and sixty days shy of his first birthday he picked the lock on his playpen with a found screwdriver. Fourteen years and one sexuality crisis later, Tommy Pickles is blowing last place because he can’t convince himself to stop staring at Carlos Garcia’s perfect hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Dil Will Build A Creature

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and likely riddled with mistakes.

Thomas Malcolm Pickles has been coming out ahead of the game ever since August 11th, 1989, when he was born two months premature. At just six months old he taught himself to walk, and sixty days shy of his first birthday he picked the lock on his playpen with a found screwdriver. Fourteen years and one sexuality crisis later, Tommy Pickles is blowing last place because he can’t convince himself to stop staring at Carlos Garcia’s perfect hair.

“Sorry Mrs. Stowinsky,” Tommy mutters, frantically flipping through the pages in his literature textbook. “Where  
are we again?” he asks meekly. 

It’s starting to become a serious personal problem, but Tommy can’t bring himself to stop. Each lock is like a curl of shaved dark chocolate, hovering mid air with enough bounce and body to star in a Pantene commercial. A loud clicking noise distracts both of you momentarily, and you glance to the right just in time to witness your younger brother rushing through the hallway in shoes that are most definitely not made for men. 

“It seems as though absent-mindedness runs in the Pickles’ family gene pool,” Mrs. Stowinsky says with a frown. 

Tommy chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh no, Mrs. Stowinsky. I’m sure Dil is wearing high heels on purpose,” he says with complete sincerity. The class erupts into unbidden laughter and Mrs. Stowinsky scowls, upper lip curling with disgust. 

“Women’s pumps,” Mrs. Stowinsky mutters disdainfully as she turns back to face the chalkboard.

Shaking his head, Tommy decides he isn’t going to try and figure out what that may or may not imply about his brother. Dil is strange twenty-four-seven, but Carlos Garcia’s perfect hair is only available five days a week during sixth period, and Tommy isn’t quite gay enough to waste what precious little time he has left speculating about his younger brother’s fashion choices.

Thirty-two minutes later Tommy’s eyes wander and he ends up admiring the shell of Carlos’ ear and the subtle curve of his jaw. Tommy isn’t positive, but there might even be a little bit of stubble coming in around his chin. Carlos glances over his shoulder and Tommy flounders, scrambling for an excuse. Carlos flashes a smile in Tommy’s direction before he even has a chance to sputter. The jumbled words die on Tommy’s lips as realizes Carlos has turned back to face the front of the classroom.

Heart pounding in his chest, Tommy hopes that Carlos doesn’t think he’s a total creep, and a small part inside even wants to believe that there’s some miniscule chance that Carlos returns his feelings. Unfortunately, the chances of Carlos Garcia being gay are little to none, so Tommy squashes the seed of hope before it can blossom into delusions of grandeur.

Instead, Tommy entertains the idea of a friendship, and what it would be like to be close to him. The two of them could watch sci-fi movies together and have popcorn fights, and afterwards maybe he’d kiss Tommy on the mouth while the credits roll aimlessly on screen. The dismissal bell startles Tommy out of his freaky horror movie makeout fantasy and into the real world, and he just barely manages to not collide into Carlos Garcia himself as he stands to leave.

“Hey,” he says, tugging on the sleeve of Tommy’s jacket.

Muscles tense as Tommy turns to face him. “Uh, me?”

Carlos smiles and holy cow, his teeth could guide lost ships! “Do you wanna hang out sometime?”

Is this some kind of dream? Heart threatening to give out under the pressure, Tommy forces himself to speak. “There’s going to be a Halloween party at my house tonight.” When Carlos doesn’t respond Tommy rushes to explain. “My parents are still going to be there, so not like, that kind of party.” Crap! Now it probably sounds like a lame parent controlled playdate. “No! I mean, it’s still going to be pretty good. There’s going to be candy and--”

Carlos nods. “Okay, sounds cool.”

Dil converges on the other side of Tommy as Carlos departs in the opposite direction. “Was that about my tie?” he asks.

Tommy’s eyes dart to Dil’s shoes in disbelief but he merely quirks a brow when at the sight of his purple polka dot tie. “Why would Carlos be talking to me about your stupid tie?”

Dil shrugs. “I don’t know, but a ton of people were staring for some reason. And what else would Carlos Garcia be talking to you about? It’s not like you guys hang out. Unless...” Dil taps his chin thoughtfully for a few seconds. “Are you guys cultivating a secret friendship? Because if that’s the case, I could really use some help in Spanish class, and--”

Tommy struggles for a feasible excuse. “I was just inviting him to our Halloween party Dil, geeze,” Tommy inwardly flinches at the sound of his voice cracking. “What is this, an interrogation?”

The rest of the day drags on with little consequence, and Tommy finds himself distracted all throughout it, even during lunch when everyone discusses their Halloween costume ideas. Tommy is too busy overanalyzing the short conversation he’d had with Carlos during first period. Can someone as masculine as Carlos Garcia really be gay? Then again, just a few months ago he’d wondered the same thing about himself. What if Carlos accepting his party invitation was some sort of covert admission to mutual romantic interest?

“Tommy?” Lil says.

A part of him wishes he could just go and ask him, but accidentally outing himself is the last thing he wants to do. As if liking someone out of his league isn’t hard enough, Tommy would rather not have to worry about complete social ostracization as a result. It shouldn’t be this hard, Tommy tells himself, there should be a way to tell how a person feels without direct confrontation. 

Much to his dismay, Tommy realizes that he needs advice from someone a little more...experienced in the romantic playing field. More importantly, the advice needs to come from someone readily available, someone too self involved to ask too many questions, someone like...Angelica!

“Earth to Tommy,” Phil says, flicking you in the temple with his thumb and forefinger. 

“Ow!” Tommy complains, rubbing at the side of his skull. “What?” Tommy asks, voice tinged with annoyance.

“Well, did you hear what Dil said--” Chuckie starts, but Kimi rushes to talk over him.

She folds her arms in front of her chest. “Are you really okay with Dil’s Halloween costume?” Kimi asks matter-of-factly.

Lost and confused, Tommy attempts to cover his absent-mindedness. “Of course I am!” Tommy declares boldly. “I support Dil in whatever he does,” he finishes with broad smile. 

Dil’s eyes light up and his face mirrors your own. “Thanks bro,” he says, putting an arm around Tommy’s shoulder in camaraderie.

Tommy shrugs. “It’s no problem, we’re brothers, we’re supposed to stick together. Besides, it’s just a Halloween costume,” he says with wave of his hand. “How bad could it be?”

Tommy finds out exactly how bad the Halloween costume is going to be several minutes into the bus ride home. Dil is trying to convince him that the entire idea isn’t just a farce, but some kind of cleverly disguised political statement. Tommy doesn’t buy it.

“What kind of a political statement can you make by dressing up as a tranny?” Tommy asks incredulously.

Dil shakes his head. “Not just any tranny, Tommy, I’m going to be--”

Tommy doesn’t bother to let him finish. “You can’t dress up as the tranny from Rocky Horror Picture Show for Halloween!” he insists.

Dil frowns and folds his arm in front of his chest. “Well why not?” Dil complains. “Who died and made you the costume police?”

Tommy fumbles over his words, gesticulating wildly. “I don’t know, maybe because...” Tommy trails off, but reason doesn’t find him. “I can’t just have my brother showing up to the Halloween party in drag!” he blurts out. “C’mon Dil, don’t you think it’s a little far?”

Dil’s fingers clench into fists at his sides. “But I’ve been practicing in heels for weeks!”

Tommy sighs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s what this was about?” Tommy asks, staring pointedly at Dil’s shoes.

“Being a woman is hard Tommy,” Dil says. “If I didn’t practice walking in heels, I’d never be able to do an entire solo dance routine in costume.” Dil shakes his head, staring at his shoes. “Not that it matters now.”

They sit out the rest of ride home in silence, Dil sulking sullenly with his head resting against the back of the seat in front of them. Tommy opts for staring out the window, mentally marking familiar landmarks in their small cul de sac. When the bus screeches to a halt Dil drags himself down the aisle at an infuriatingly slow pace, forcing Tommy to inch forward impatiently behind him. Just as they’re about to reach the front of the bus a voice snags Tommy’s attention.

“Hey faggot, how about you keep that shit in your house!”

The words send a chill down his spine, and for a moment Tommy thinks that they’re referring to him. This has been the fodder for every awful gay bash scenario in the history of the world, and Tommy would rather not end up on the Matthew Shepard end of a fight. Much to his horror, Dil is arguing back with them.

“Actually, faggot is an offensive term for a homosexual. The word you’re looking for is crossdresser, and actually, most men who crossdress are heterosexual so that--”

Tommy drags his brother toward the front of the bus at top speed, lungs filling with fresh oxygen when the doors shut and the vehicle chugs away. “What the heck Dil?” Tommy shouts breathlessly. “Were you trying to get the crap beaten out of us? That guy was twice our size!”

Dil shrugs. “You know I have a black belt in ninjutsu,” he says says nonchalantly.

Furious, Tommy snaps. “Oh right,” he says. “I forgot you went to the fabricated school of Japanese cartoons!”

Dil scowls. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

Tommy lowers his voice as their brightly decorated house comes into view. “What do you think it means Dil? It means that your fake black belt isn’t going to save us when you get us killed!”

Dil takes a deep breath. “Maybe you’re ashamed of who I am, bro, but I’m not!” Dil says, eyes darting nervously to their house. Dil catches himself before continuing. “And if I’m not going to let a couple of jerks on the bus tell me I can’t be myself, I’m definitely not going to hear it from you!” Dil shouts. 

You put out a hand to comfort him but he storms ahead, gesturing furiously. “This is just like when Julio left Francisca after he found out she was secretly dying her hair blonde all along!” he shouts as he reaches the door. He jams the key inside the lock and Tommy wishes he was out of hearing range. “Why can’t we all just love each other for who we are?” Dil mumbles before heading inside.

The words echo in Tommy’s mind during the short walk up their paved driveway. Is Dil right? A sick feeling makes itself at home inside his stomach. Shame. Of course Tommy isn’t ashamed of his younger brother, he’s just trying to look out for him. For his own good, right?

Tommy looks for Angelica as soon as the front door clicks shut, navigating around mounted skeletons and ducking under orange and black streamers. He bypasses his mother and just barely manages to dodge a request for help from his Dad as he hurries out of the parlor. Unsurprisingly, Tommy finds Angelica in the kitchen rummaging through party favors. She stares at Tommy like a deer in the headlights when he enters the room, fingers curled around a stack of chocolate chip cookies. The witch hat on her head is crooked and her sparkly black dress is more than a little gaudy, but at least she’s in character. 

Left hand to her chest, she lets out of a breath of relief. “Thank god,” she says, chest heaving. “I thought you were aunt Didi.” When Tommy doesn’t say anything she narrows her eyes and plunges her hand into a pumpkin shaped bowl filled to the brim with candy. “Well what do you want?”

Tommy takes a deep breath, hoping that she doesn’t laugh him out of the room. “How can you tell if someone likes you?”

Angelica reacts with surprising enthusiasm, quirking a brow and swallowing down another bite of chocolate chip cookie. “Does my little cousin Tommy finally like somebody?” she mocks. Tommy rolls his eyes as she continues. “Who’s the lucky lady? Is it Kimi?” Tommy’s eyes widen. “I knew it!” she exclaims. “Suzie better recognize! She’s going to be so sorry when I tell her--”

Tommy shakes his head, rushing to clarify. “No, it’s not Kimi! It’s someone else.” His throat seizes as he tries to find a believable cover up. “I met her...at the library! You probably don’t know her.”

“The library?” Angelica lets out a shrill laugh. “I definitely don’t know her.”

The conversation lapses into silence as she finishes off the last cookie in her hand. “Well...?” Tommy prompts anxiously. “I might have invited her to this party so I kind of need answers now,” he urges.

Angelica laughs again. “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” she says, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Trust me, I know how to make a girl like you.”

Tommy smiles hopefully. “So you’ll help me?”

Angelica tilts her head, considering. “For a small fee.”

As far as Tommy is concerned, lying is never the best answer, but he is stymied by Angelica’s complete and utter bullshit for a long enough time that she manages to convince him that in this case, she’s right. Tommy hurries off to his bedroom to change into his Halloween costume before the sun sets. It’s the same one he wore last year--a typical Dracula situation--because he’s been too caught up with Carlos Garcia and his brother’s heel wearing shenanigans to really come up with anything good.

Chuckie is the first of Tommy’s friends to come looking for him. He finds him dressed in a button up and cape, desperately trying to force cheap, year old vampire fangs onto his incisors. Chuckie laughs as he approaches him, noting his lack of pants. 

“This isn’t funny,” Tommy says, frantically shrugging dark black slacks over his boxers. The zipper gets caught around the bunched up fabric of his underwear and he sighs in frustration. “Okay, maybe it’s a little funny,” Tommy admits.

“I have dental tape at home,” Chuckie offers. 

Tommy shakes his head. “There’s no time for that, I’ll just go without the teeth.”

Chuckie shoots Tommy an incredulous look. “I don’t know Tommy, without the teeth aren’t you just some kind of...cape wearing eccentric?” 

Tommy groans, slicking back his hair with gel to the best of his ability. “Yeah, I guess. I doubt he’ll notice, he probably isn’t even that into Halloween,” Tommy mumbles.

Chuckie leans forward. “What was that Tommy?”

Palms sweaty, his own voice surprises him. “Nothing! Just saying that I’m sure it’ll be fine without the teeth!” 

Tommy leaves the room and heads downstairs without so much as a backwards glance. The entire house is dimly lit, glowing with faint orange from the strings of lights hanging in the front windows. Phil forces Tommy to admire his costume before he can make it to the kitchen, and Kimi tries to corral him into scaring the trick-or-treaters with her and Lil when they come knocking for candy. 

The doorbell sounds throughout the entire house and Lil and Kimi look at each other with equal levels of excitement. “That’s for me!” Tommy announces, tripping over himself in an effort to reach the door first. 

Tommy berates himself for his enthusiasm as he walks briskly past Lil and Kimi poised on either side of the doorframe, and when the door swings open to reveal Carlos Garcia instead of a gaggle of small children, Lil and Kimi falter awkwardly.

“Oh, uh, hey,” Lil says, moving to stand.

Kimi interjects with her hands braced on her knees. “Carlos, right?”

Tommy wipes his palms against his pants as discreetly as he can manage. “Hey Carlos,” Tommy says smoothly. Unfortunately, it’s too early to celebrate. When Carlos shakes his hand his brain stutters to a stop. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” Tommy blurts out, wanting to eat the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

Carlos gives him a strange look. “You invited me,” he says.

Lil and Kimi turn to Tommy, waiting for an explanation. “Oh right,” he says, trying to compose himself. “We can go in the living room if you want,” Tommy offers, before hastily tacking on something that makes him seem a little less like an overeager schoolgirl. “Doesn’t matter to me either way.” 

“Right,” Carlos says, rubbing his arm. “Maybe there’s a horror moving playing,” he suggests. 

When Tommy flops down onto the couch he notices how ragtag his own sneakers are and feels like the lamest fifteen year old boy in all of existence. Carlos is wearing a proper vampire costume, complete with fangs and a fine pointed collar. He’s even wearing face paint under his dark coal eyes, and of course the costume is topped off with square tipped, freshly polished black shoes. 

“What about the Grudge?” Carlos suggests as he flicks through the movie channels.

The Grudge is one of Tommy’s favorite movies, but he bottles his excitement and saves it for another time. “Doesn’t matter to me,” he says instead, trying to appear confident and aloof. Carlos gives Tommy a quizzical look before selecting the movie.

Halfway into the film and neither of them has spoken a word. They’ve gone largely ignored in the chaos of party setup and the near constant flow of trick-or-treaters. Occasionally Tommy can hear his mother calling for more candy, and he’s certain Dad is finishing up an over the top invention in the basement that he’s been planning since November first of last year. Kimi and Lil are still maintaining their posts by the front door, and he hasn’t seen Chuckie or Phil since before the movie began. Dil hasn’t made an appearance all night, but Tommy shoves the guilt aside and tries to enjoy the movie anyway. 

“Kids!” your mother announces from the kitchen. “Pizza’s here!” 

The scent of sauce and melted cheese sends Tommy’s stomach spiraling into starvation mode, and it takes all of his willpower to not drool all over himself. 

Carlos cranes his neck before turning back to Tommy. “Pizza?” he asks.

Though Tommy’s brain recoils at the idea he force himself into a full body shrug. “Eh, pizza is okay I guess. If you’re into that type of thing.”

Carlos quirks a brow before heaving himself up. The two of them stand simultaneously, stuck between the couch and coffee table like confused bumper cars. Twice they try switching directions, and both times Tommy ends up trampling Carlos’ previously perfect loafers. Even Tommy can hear the desperation in his own voice as he tries to string together an apology. Just as he thinks that he can’t possibly make this night any worse, he bends to push the table out of the way and the sound of fabric tearing fills the room.

Humiliated, Tommy shuffles out of the living room backwards before Carlos can ask what’s wrong. Luckily, Tommy has had plenty of practice walking backwards with Dil, and he manages to steer clear of any obstacles until he stumbles heels first into his best friend. 

Chuckie trips and manages to brace himself on the nearby wall, glasses askew. “Tommy?” he questions, adjusting the frames on his face. 

Tommy turns to Chukie in horror, hand covering the ripped seam at his thigh. “Uh, hey Chuckie,” he says stiffly. “How are you enjoying the party? Oh wow? Really, well there’s pizza in the kitchen.” the words come out in a rushed slurry but Tommy can’t seem to pull his foot from from the gas peddle. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get going, have a thingie to get to in my room and it’s pretty sensitive,” Tommy’s mind races ahead as he slams to a full stop. “Time sensitive!” he corrects, embarrassed.

Chuckie snorts. “Tommy, we both know I’m lactose intolerant.” Tommy rubs at his neck and glances to the floor as he continues. “Besides, give me some credit. I work with the drama geeks. I know how to spot someone covering up a ripped seam.” 

Caught red handed, Tommy uncovers the small tear at his inner thigh. His eyes shift as they search out something to focus on. Chuckie leans down to inspect the rip and Tommy feels enormously uncomfortable. It isn’t as if Tommy’s ever been attracted to him--red hair and freckles isn’t exactly his type, besides the fact that it’s Chuckie--but there’s someone kneeling in front of him, staring at an intimate part of his skin that he would rather not have exposed. It’s enough to make any guy feel a little uneasy.

Shaking his hand, Chuckie stands again. “Tommy, you’re gonna have to get undressed,” he says flatly. Geeze, how does Chuckie say stuff like that while looking someone dead in the eye. Surprise takes over your face. “Working with drama geeks,” Chuckie explains, eyeing your confusion. “It changes you.” 

With no options left Tommy heralds Chuckie in the bathroom where he shucks off his pants and make as little eye contact as possible. Chuckie retrieves a sewing kit from the bathroom cabinet Tommy didn’t know was there. Tommy hands over the article of clothing while Chuckie settles onto the closed toilet like a throne. Tommy perches awkwardly on the edge of the tub in boxer briefs, tapping his bare foot against the cold bathroom tile in agitation. 

“Can’t you sew that any faster?” Tommy snaps. Chuckie’s eyes widen from where he’s attempting to thread the needle. Tommy averts his eyes. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I have a lot on my mind right now.”

Chuckie smiles. “We can talk about you know.”

Tommy shakes his head. “I have to get back out there,” he says anxiously.

“It’s gonna take at least a few minutes for me to fix this up,” Chuckie says with a shrug. “Besides, we’re best friends. Whatever it is you can tell me.”

For a brief moment, Tommy feels the overwhelming desire to tell Chuckie about everything, especially his sexuality. He imagines what it might be like to have an open, honest conversation with his best friend again. He hasn’t been able to tell Chuckie everything about his life since before the eighth grade, when he accidentally checked out the same guy as Kimi after school while drinking smoothies.

“Um,” he mumbles. 

The worst part is that as unintentionally close-minded as Chuckie can be, Tommy knows that he would accept him with open arms. They’ve been best friends since before they were potty trained and Chuckie isn’t the kind of guy to throw something like that away over something as unimportant as which gender Tommy prefers. Right? 

Tommy’s chest rises as he inhales deeply, trying to prepare himself for what he’s about to say. “The truth is,” he starts, before stopping to chew on his bottom lip worriedly. “I really want to be friends with Carlos,” Tommy blurts, heart racing. 

Chuckie pauses from concentrating on the clothing repair. “Carlos Garcia?” he questions.

“Carlos Garcia,” Tommy reaffirms. “I’ve just always thought he’s a really cool guy.”

Chuckie tilts his head and returns to sewing. “Eh. I guess. I never thought so,” he says, the telling bite of bitterness shining through in the tone of his voice. 

Confusion clouds Tommy’s mind for merely a moment. “Are you jealous?”

Chuckie finishes the last stitch before tying it off properly. “Maybe a little,” he confesses. “I don’t want you replacing me with...Carlos Garcia.”

Tommy tries steeling himself but rushes to his defense anyway. “What’s wrong with Carlos?” he asks, shoving his foot into his black slacks.

“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Chuckie amends. “He’d probably make a better best friend than me anyway.”

Tommy brushes off his pants and places a hand on Chuckie's shoulder. “You’ll always be my best friend Chukie,” he reassures him. 

An unbidden smile slips onto Chuckie’s face. “Well then what do you need Carlos Garcia for?”

“I don’t need him, and besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m pretty sure the guy hates me.”

Chuckie snorts. “Yeah right, who could hate you? Just be yourself, Tommy.”

With a sigh Tommy resigns to plopping himself back onto the edge of the bathtub. “That’s the same thing Dil said. But I don’t know Chuckie, what if my regular old self isn’t good enough?”

Chuckie looks taken aback. “This doesn’t sound like the Tommy I know,” he says disapprovingly. “The Tommy I know is proud of who he is, and he stands up for what he believes in. Everyone loves that Tommy. I’m sure if you go out there and be your regular self, Carlos will like it too.”

Tommy removes his head from his hands and stands. “Okay, now you sound like Dil,” he says.  
“Hey, we both know Dil’s advice is off the hook!”

Tommy can’t help a chagrined smile. “Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking listening to Angelica.”

The bathroom door bursts open unexpectedly and Tommy can only be grateful that at least now he’s full dressed. Phil shoots you a bemused look anyway. Kimi is a few feet behind him, dipping a slice of cheese pizza sloppily into her mouth. Carlos is off to the left, chewing. When he notices Tommy staring he shoots him a thumbs up and it takes all of Tommy’s willpower not to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“We’re gonna play hide and seek in the dark!” Phil exclaims. 

Lil appears seemingly from thin air. “Complete and total darkness,” she says ominously.

Chuckie's eyes flicker nervously around the room as he rubs at his wrist. Last year’s Halloween debacle is still fresh in Tommy mind, and he’d rather not have his best friend sprain his ankle tripping over an end table he couldn’t see. “I don’t know Phil. Remember what happened last year?” Tommy starts. “When we found you hiding under the kitchen table sucking your thumb!”

“Owned!” Lil echoes, turning to Kimi and bursting into laughter.

Phil’s face turns crimson and Carlos tries not to choke on his pizza in amusement. Chuckie flashes Tommy a grateful smile and for the first time all day, Tommy feels at peace. When the laughter disappaits the moment shatters, the entire room cloaked in an uncomfortable silence. Carlos saves the day with a simple suggestion.

“Rocky Horror Picture Show is supposed to start at ten,” he says, glancing furtively around the room to gauge reactions. 

The enthusiasm is instant and agreement simultaneously. “We haven’t watched that together since last year!” Kimi gushes excitedly. 

The six of them cram into the living room, crowding onto the couch and floor in front of the television. Carlos sits beside Tommy, and when Kimi and Lil demand couch seats on the basis of being the only women, they win out, squishing Carlos snugly against him. “Sorry,” Carlos mutters, smiling. Tommy shrugs the best he can manage under the circumstances, trying not let his nerves get the best of him. It’s nearly impossible.

Even through layers of cotton and cheap Halloween getup, Tommy can feel warmth radiating from where body is pressed up against him. Is it just him? Tommy briefly wonder if a rush of hormones can cause a person to overheat. What if Carlos can feel it and it freaks him out? Tommy pulls uselessly at your collar and tries subtly shifting in his seat, but the movement catches Carlos’ attention immediately. “Sorry if I’m burning you up over here,” he whispers, so close that Tommy can feel his breath against the shell of his ear.

Tommy wrenches himself from the couch with a start, and several heads turn as his friends stare. “I just---wanna go get Dil I know he wouldn’t wanna miss this!” he blurts. He nearly trips over the end table walking backwards before turning around and racing up the steps. Back pressed against the hallway wall, Tommy tries to catch his breath. 

“Pablo told me this would happen,” Dil mutters. Tommy’s eyes widen and lock on Dil, visible in his room through the open doorway, laying upside down on his bed with a disinterested look. “I told him about what happened earlier and he was right.”

Tommy sighs, heading into Dil’s room to sit on the floor across from him. He definitely owes Dil and apology, but he isn’t quite sure how to start it. “You talk to your Goldfish about your life problems?” he tries lamely, as if he doesn’t already know about Dil’s personal connection to his four year old pet goldfish.

“Hey!” Dil complains, clutching the fishbowl against stomach. “He gives better advice than you!”

“Well I definitely deserved that one.” A few moments pass in silence, enough time for Tommy to notice the costume and heels strewn on the floor beside his bed. “Dilly, I’m sorry for being such a, such a Julio about things.” Dil lets out a peal of reassuring laughter. “You can dye your hair blonde if you want,” Tommy says. “Or wear heels,” he adds. 

The laughter fades into a snort. “You do know Julio and Francesca were illicit lovers, right? This metaphor is just getting a tad bit-”

Tommy continues on, unabashed. All at once the moment seems right. “Speaking of which, Dilly...I’m kind of gay.” The words slip from Tommy’s mouth so nonchalantly that he hardly realizes he’s coming out until Dil raises and eyebrow and speaks.

“Scratch kinda,” Tommy corrects. “I’m a lot gay. Definitely gay. Full homo, the whole nine yards.” The fear returns sharp in Tommy’s gut when he finishes speaking, rushing to consume him with self-doubt and visions of rejection. Instead he receives his brother’s unconditional acceptance in the form of uncontrollable laughter.

“So Carlos Garcia--” Dil starts, struggling to explain himself between laughs. 

“Yeah, I like him. Okay?” Tommy confesses at last. He feels better already, looser and lighter and more hopeful all at once. 

Recognition dawns in Dil’s eyes as he sits up to move Pablo to the dresser. “It’s the hair,” he says, sounding triumphant. 

Tommy rolls his eyes and turns away. “What do you know?”

Dil laughs. “I know that he definitely likes you back.”

Tommy spins around in his seat. “How would you know something like that?” he asks, lowering his voice cautiously.

Dil shrugs. “Did he add you on Myspace?”

Forcing himself not to sigh, Tommy turns away again. “Dil, that doesn’t prove anything! But, uh, yeah, he did add me yesterday.”

Dil scoffs. “I’ve been honing my gaydar Bbo, and Carlos Garcia is one man gay-pride parade.” Tommy throws Dil a look of disbelief. “Dude owns like three cashmere cardigans,” he adds.

“Those are just stereotypes! You can’t just lump everyone who wears cashmere into gay,” he protests.

Dil shrugs. “I’m not saying wearing cashmere makes him gay, I’m saying he wears cashmere because he’s gay.”

A few seconds pass by in which Tommy runs the sentence through his head three times. “That’s the same thing!” he complains at last. 

“All I’m saying is that the homie definitely likes you,” Dil says, gathering up the pile of clothes from the floor and tossing them onto the bed. “It’s my intuition, you can take it or leave it.”

With a sigh, Tommy realizes that Dil is the one being reasonable for the second time today. Some days Tommy feels like he’s the younger brother between the two of him, especially when Dil seems able to dole out at advice like some mystical sage for nearly any problem brought to him. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” The worst part is how much Tommy wants Carlos to like him back, that even though he told himself that he didn’t, he does. The want is there, a tiny little seed of hope watered with each lingering touch and new conversation. 

“You know I accept you no matter what, right?” Dil says, bent over the bed as he forces his feet into heels. 

“Yeah I know,” Tommy says quietly. He mulls over the way Dil stood up to the two jerks on the bus, unafraid as Tommy had once been. “I really am sorry about earlier,” Tommy says seriously. “It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been stressed about this whole thing and, honestly Dil, those guys on the bus could have kicked our asses.”

Dil frowns. “I know. But who do you think taught me to stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves?” Tommy tries to hide an abashed smile. “Yeah, it was you, you jerk.”

Tommy laughs, finding relief in honestly at last. “Don’t tell anyone else yet, okay?” he adds nervously. “Just for now,” he says. “I’ll tell them eventually.”

Dil snorts. “No offense Tommy, but I’m pretty sure they already know.”

Tommy turns his head so quickly that if his hair was any longer he’d have whiplash. “What? That’s crazy! How would they already know?”

“Uh, I dunno dude, maybe because of that huge crush you used to have on Mario Lopez?”

“Tch, Dil, that wasn’t a crush. I was going through an animal planet phase, okay?”

“Sure, you just genuinely enjoyed the quality content brought to you by Pet Star,” Dil says dismissively.

“I wanted to be a vet!” Tommy insists. “At least, I think.”

Dil nods wordlessly and poses in front of the mirror in full Rocky Horror getup. It still makes Tommy mildly uneasy but mostly because it exposes more of Dil’s skin than he’s entirely comfortable with seeing. “I accept you no matter what too, okay?” Tommy says.

“I know,” Dil says with a shrug. “Now go get your camcorder. I wanna show this one to my future grandkids!” 

Tommy runs for his for room and barely has time to flip open the camera when the familiar music starts. He isn’t surprised by the song choice but he is surprised by Dil’s above average singing ability. He enters into the living room with a perfectly planned, how d’you do, and when Carlos Garcia smiles and catches Tommy’s eye he’s never been more proud to be an older brother--or himself.


End file.
